I Am Draco Malfoy, After All
by meredith1018
Summary: One-Shot. Draco hasn't exactly had the easiest life since the war was over, but Hermione's been making it a little better. For now, at least. Dr/H. DH & DH Epilogue compliant.


**Author' Note**: So while I was sitting around, raging at the fact that it's REALLY, REALLY hard to write a full-fledged Draco/Hermione story that takes place between the end of DH and the DH Epilogue, I decided to write a one-shot. Will it be angsty? Probably. I find that the best one-shots are usually full of angst and unhappy characters and a bunch of other really horrible stuff. Will it involve a pairing? Well, duh! Which pairing? Draco/Hermione, of course! Anyway, this one-shot is DH & Epilogue compliant, because it's a lot easier to write a one-shot that fits into that than a story when it comes to D/Hr. It's from Draco's POV, and takes place about a year after the end of the book.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot. Er, not that there really is an actual plot, but what there is of a plot is mine. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Life really is a bitch, when you think about it.

That's why I hate mine. It's a bitch. A really nasty, raving, PMSing bitch at that.

I knew life was going to take a major turn for the worst after the war was over. Sure, stupid Potter had made sure that my family wasn't prosecuted for some reason that I'll probably never know. But even with that, it was just fucking horrible for us after the war. Father was almost completely shunned by the entire wizarding world, and Mother isolated herself with him.

I didn't want that. I didn't want to shut myself away and hide like a coward. I love my parents, but that's what they're doing – being cowards. But I refused to shut myself away with them. I moved out and got my own place, a small flat in London. I wanted a normal life.

I should have known, really, that I wasn't going to get one. I am Draco Malfoy, after all.

I used to be somebody. I used to have connections. I used to be able to get anything I wanted. I was selfish and arrogant because of these things, I'll admit it. I knew I was selfish and arrogant, and it didn't bother me.

But all of that disappeared with the war.

My name is pretty much mud with everyone in the wizarding world. I can't even go to a stupid pub in Diagon Alley without getting death threats and/or insults thrown at me from every direction. And I honestly can't even blame them, because I'd probably do the same if I were in there shoes. But that doesn't mean I don't hate it. Because it sucks not being able to be a normal eighteen year old boy.

Everyone else my age (that wasn't a Death Eater or had no Death Eater parents) is pretty much shitting themselves they're so high on life. The big bad villain is dead and all his supporters are either in Azkaban or shutting themselves away from the rest of the world, and they're all celebrating. I doubt there's ever been an event in history that has caused so much drunkenness. And I mean that literally; in the wizarding world, celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord means booze. At least that's how everyone else my age is taking it, because you can't walk down Diagon Alley past midday without some group of young adult wizards and/or witches drunk off their asses singing and dancing. It's slightly revolting.

But I'd give anything to join them. To be _normal._

Even my old Slytherin classmates don't keep in touch with me, save Pansy. But Pansy's so obsessed with me she would eat the shit coming out of my ass if I asked her too. I'll probably end up marrying her, just because I'll never be able to meet anyone else who would and Pansy would never, _ever _stop bothering me if I didn't. Whatever. I'd rather have Pansy than no one. She's almost the only reason I ever go out anymore, because I don't have anywhere else to go or anyone else to see.

Except for Potter and his two ass-licking friends. They still don't like me; they'll never like me or ever think of me as a friend, and I don't want them to. But for some reason Potter felt the need to start inviting me to all these stupid events that he was supposed to speak at. I didn't show up to the first one, naturally. After that, every time he sent me an invitation he sent a follow up in the form of Granger, who pretty much threatened physical violence if I refused to go. The first time she showed up and informed me that she was taking me to another one of those stupid events, I flat out refused to go.

And let me tell you, I never made the mistake of doing that again. She may be a Mudblood, but she's fucking scary. I'll never admit it to anyone, but that girl scares the shit out of me. She can be the biggest bitch in existence when provoked, and it's downright terrifying. On the other hand, it's almost admirable at how she could probably force anyone to give her anything and everything she wanted. She's too virtuous and _noble_ to do any of that though. But she could if she wanted to.

That's probably why I started fucking her.

If you'd told me a few years ago that I'd be screwing the brains of the stupid Golden Trio, I wouldn't have even dignified you with a response. But fuck me, because it happened.

It's all her fault, really. She's the one that decided she'd _hug _me. I mean, I have never, ever given off the aura of someone who likes _hugs. _She was probably trying to be nice, but still. A _hug_, I ask you.

It was after some stupid St. Mungo's benefit dinner. As usual, she'd showed up in my fireplace and ordered me to get off my ass and put on some dress robes. I obliged, as anyone in their right mind would (she's _scary_, for chrissake!). It had been a horribly shitty experience, as they all are. But this one was made worse because there had been a lot of long-term patients in attendance, and most of them were there at the hands of Death Eaters. That being said, a good amount of people spent the entire two hours either glaring at me or cursing at me under their breath as walked past me. Needless to say, it really pissed me off.

Granger noticed, of course. Damn Mudblood notices _everything._

Anyway, she felt the need to console me afterwards, being _noble_ and all that. Don't ask _me _why she thought _hugging _me was the best way to do this. A pat on the back would have sufficed, but no. She had to go and _hug _me.

Don't ask _me_ how a stupid hug resulted in her writhing beneath me in my bed back at my flat.

Don't ask _me _why the next time she showed up to bring me to another stupid dinner that we showed up forty minutes late because we got distracted by my shower.

Don't ask _me _why she'd decided to come to my flat one night after fighting with Weasley (when aren't they fighting? I mean, seriously?) and I comforted her the only way I know how, by fucking her brains out.

And _really_ don't ask me how it turned into an almost daily habit.

We're not together, of course. She and Weasley have been thisclose to being an item since the war ended, even with the constant fighting, and it's only a matter of time before they actually make it official. Everyone knows it's bound to happen one of these days, and it's actually kind of surprising it hasn't happened yet. But it will.

And until then, she's mine.

If she ever heard me say that, she'd probably decapitate me on the spot, right after accusing me of degrading her to nothing more than property (on top of everything else she's got a touch of the feminist about her). But it's true, regardless. She doesn't know it, but she's completely wrapped around my finger.

It's all about that stupid, Gryffindor induced nobility. Because I can tell she thinks she's helping me by making me feel wanted or something like that. And it's true in a way. Sometimes when we're going at it I almost feel normal, like I'm your average eighteen year old boy having sex with his girlfriend. But I'm not. In the end, she is sort of helping me – but only in a very small way, because in the end she's just a fuck buddy.

And she's _mine. _

She'll probably stop coming after she and Weasley finally announce that they're together. She's too…_Gryffindor _to ever cheat on anyone. It's a damn shame, really. I would have gotten a ridiculous amount of satisfaction knowing that she was cheating on Weasley with one of his least favorite people. I'll probably unleash all of my Malfoy cunning and charm to get her to fuck me one last time when she gets with Weasley, just to know that Weasley doesn't have the amount of power over her that I have.

I doubt she realizes that she's pretty much whipped, for lack of a better word. She's not the type to ever admit to basically belonging to anyone. But she does, whether she admits it or not. After all, _I _never go to see _her. _She always comes to _me. _

We've never talked about it. She's never told anyone and neither have I, and I doubt we ever will. It's just kind of an unspoken agreement that it'll be over when she and Weasley get together. She'll probably show up the day it happens and calmly tell me that she's officially Wesley's girlfriend and that she hopes I have a nice life. I'll charm her into fucking me one last time, just to spite Weasley, and then I'll probably never touch her again – but only because she'll probably never come to my flat again.

And I'll admit it; I'm kind of dreading that day.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I know, there wasn't really a plot. But hey, who said one-shots needed plots? And don't even ask me how I thought of the basis for this. I kind of said to myself, "one-shot, Draco/Hermione, Draco's perspective," and started typing, and it all kind of went from there. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little shot of Draco!


End file.
